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romantic love poem

to clothe the fiery thought
i shake my hair in the wind of morning
thoughts through my head
the darkness steals the forms of all the queens
she must go back, she said
three years ago today
of sun nor stars
brief on a flying night
a gleam of gold in gloom and gray
i walk down the garden paths
gone are the three, those sisters rare
do not turn your head

 



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